


Worlds Apart

by Miss_L



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: First Time, Fluff, I think xD, M/M, Smut, it'll be fine tho, suddenly drama, yh I didn't know Elves were this dramatic either
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2013-12-13
Packaged: 2018-01-04 00:19:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1074766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_L/pseuds/Miss_L
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to MissLunatic's story - basically, doing the wangle dangle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Last descendant of fallen kings](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1046071) by [MissLunatic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissLunatic/pseuds/MissLunatic). 



An Elf and a Dwarf – by all accounts, a strange arrangement, and not one they felt their kins would approve of. So they made a point of secrecy: clandestine nightly meetings, stolen moments here and there, always careful not to be found out. When they were alone, however, none of that mattered. They were together and everything was perfect.

Both men were endlessly fascinated by the other. The Elf’s name was Ihimbraskár, a name he personally didn't find all that pretty, but to Kíli’s ears, the series of sounds were the most beauteous and heavenly music he had ever heard. And his own pronunciation of the name was, in turn, music to the Elf’s ears. Of course, the Dwarf prince pronounced it entirely wrong – the consonants were too short or too long on his coarse tongue, and he managed to gag on the accent every time he tried it out (although it could also have been Ihimbraskár’s tongue, because he always felt compelled to kiss the young man silly when he did so). Yet the Elf only ever felt like he belonged somewhere when Kíli said his name.

The Elf, in turn, was absolutely obsessed with the Dwarfling’s body, so different from his own. He would trace the outline of Kíli’s short, sturdy muscles with his nimble fingers for hours, bury his nose in the luxuriant chest hair and kiss his beard until the Dwarf was ticklish all over and giggling adorably. Kíli was ashamed of his body, because the Elf’s skin was such an alabaster beauty and he felt unworthy, most of the time, to taint Ihimbraskár with his dirty little fingers (he made sure to take a bath before they met, but even then, he never felt… Clean enough). It had taken the Elf some time to convince Kíli that he really _was_ beautiful. Luckily, once lost in passion, he stopped protesting altogether anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

They were so busy learning each other’s bodies, voices and scents that first night, they hadn't even started making love before the sun came up and Kíli was running back towards the guest chambers. The second night, however, would be different. They had both been most anticipatory and nervous, Ihimbraskár dropping everything he had in his hands all day, earning himself questioning stares – he was known for his dexterity and grace, but today, he was just a walking disaster. He even almost managed to break his lyre. In the end, he was put at a table and told not to touch anything, to make sure he didn't hurt himself, or anyone else.

At last, night had fallen, the rambunctious Dwarves and disapproving Elves gone to sleep. Kíli stuffed all the cushions he could find in his chamber under his feather-light duvet and set off through the halls, trusting his feeling more than his eyes in the dim light of the moon. Finally, he reached a door. He listened intently for a few seconds, then unlocked the bolt and slipped outside. The full moon was shining bright and inviting, and Kíli sped up his pace until he was scampering towards the clearing they had claimed as their own yesterday. Not subject to close scrutiny or festive friends and relatives, Ihimbraskár was already there, waiting for him under a tree, sat on several blankets. The Elf looked extremely relieved when the slightly out of breath Dwarf came into view and rose to meet him.

“I thought you would not come,” he whispered timidly after a heated welcome-kiss.

Kíli grabbed gentle hold of his shoulders and looked into his blushing face.

“How could I not?” He smiled and pulled the taller man into a tight embrace, inhaling the wonderful scent of his long hair. “I am forever yours,” he whispered.

“Come.” Ihimbraskár pulled him along towards the pile of blankets. “This night will be cold,” he explained. A long meteorological explanation followed – no doubt just nervous rambling – so Kíli tuned out and enjoyed the rich, sonorous voice. When the Elf had finally arranged the cloth to his liking and unfurled his form, the Dwarf finally lost his self-control. He stepped up behind Ihimbraskár and enfolded his lithe waist, the Elf immediately melting into his touch. Even with the taller man leaning into him, Kíli had to stand on tippy-toes to reach his neck, and after a few sloppy kisses, they tumbled onto the blankets, breathless with giggles. 

Ihimbraskár straddled the Dwarfling’s hips, drinking in the sight like it was the finest wine. And by the holy Spirits, Kíli was the finest drink, food, even air, he had ever had. The Dwarf prince was young, sweet and beautiful (even if he didn't believe so himself) and the mere thought of him made the Elf feel more alive than even music, his one true calling in life. He kissed those smiling lips with a reverence one shows to a King – or a God. His hands were once again exploring the body beneath him, this time helpfully undone of all outer layers but the very basic sartorial necessities. Kíli shivered when the elegant fingers touched his skin, and Ihimbraskár hastened to throw a blanket over them both. Good thing the pointy-ear was nimble, or shedding their clothes in the make-shift tent would have been a lot harder. 

Fully undressed now, Kíli claimed the high ground, sitting up on his knees, not daring to lean on the Elf’s hips, no matter how urgently the other man’s fingers pulled him down. He took his time admiring the almost translucent, porcelain white skin, the subtle muscles beneath it, the fine bone structure of the gorgeous creature. And well, if his eyes wandered lower… It was hardly his fault that _everything_ about the Elf was lovely. His eyes returned to the flushed face and having given up hope for friction, Ihimbraskár consoled himself with pulling Kíli’s head down and claiming his mouth. The Dwarfling came up for air and grinned.

“I though Elves were such refined creatures – you skin is as pale and smooth as fine china…” Their first day at Elrond’s court was the first time Kíli had laid his eyes on such beautiful eating implements. It was also the last time, because the Dwarves were no longer allowed around fragile objects, but the young prince would always remember the cup he barely dared to put his lips against. Very much like the Elf who was now blushing vigorously. “But your tongue is… Wicked.” And with that, Kíli plunged back into the kiss, before Ihimbraskár could be overtaken with misplaced shame.

The kissing and touching was lovely, and the men were more than happy to continue where they had left off, but it was not enough this time. Their movements and noises grew more animalistic, hard lengths rubbing against each other, never generating enough friction to be _enough_. Ihimbraskár flipped onto his side, reaching for something he had brought with him, Kíli kissing his back hungrily under the sheets. It turned out to be a little flask with scented oil. 

“What do we need oil for?” Kíli rasped, voice ragged from the chilly air.

Ihimbraskár turned a most becoming shade of scarlet, trying to find words he hadn’t before.

“It’s for… Me. For… Later. I’ve learned it would be a good idea for… Us.”

Kíli was still looking at him with a confused frown, playing with the Elf’s hair as he tried to unravel the meaning behind the mumbled retort. Then he gave up.

“I don’t understand,” he admitted. “What are we supposed to do with it?”

Ihimbraskár looked suddenly worried. He put his free hand against Kíli’s cheek and frowned, too.

“Do you… Want to make love to me?” he asked, bolder than he felt. What if...? What if he had it all wrong, what if Kíli didn't want him, what if… He was faintly aware of an age-difference between Elves and Dwarves, and perhaps this hasn't been the best of ideas after all… Maybe he should leave and let the Dwarfling be. Perhaps he was too young… And maybe…

His milling doubts were dispelled when Kíli covered his hand with a slightly stubbier one. “Yes, there is nothing on this Earth I want to do more than make love to you.” His face and the tone of his voice were earnest, his expression that of infinite trust, but there was also a glint of mischief in his eyes that melted the Elf’s insides every time he saw it. Perhaps this was good, after all. Perhaps nothing mattered but the two of them. Ihimbraskár smiled, tracing Kíli’s lips with his thumb.

“Then we’re going to need the oil.” Even if the Dwarfling still didn't understand the point of it, he soon would.


	3. Chapter 3

Kíli had already proven not to care that he was lying not just with an Elf, but one of his own gender. And despite his shyness and inexperience, he was a quick learner. His exploration of Ihimbraskár’s body became bolder. He seemed to remember exactly what touch drew what noise from the Elf, and to use that knowledge mercilessly. And when he wrapped his lips and tongue around the taller man’s length (trying to imagine what he would like done to his own, and applying that idea immediately), the Elf’s mind fogged over entirely and words he had never dreamed of using began spilling from his lips in a steady rhythm. Kíli drank it all in – the sights, the sounds, the scents and the taste. He could not imagine a more heady and beautiful bouquet. Moreover, he did not believe he would last much longer.

The Elf seemed to second that thought, because he halted Kíli’s head with his hands and pulled the Dwarfling towards him by the shoulders.

“Not yet,” he whispered softly, wrinkling his nose adorably when he tasted himself on the younger man’s lips. The Dwarf put his forehead against the Elf’s, trying to steady his breathing. 

“I cannot pace myself around you, Ihimbraskár. Can I… Please?” He wasn't entirely certain what he wanted to say, or even what it was he wanted, exactly, but his companion understood – he always did. Even in the heat of passion, the Elf still managed to look impeccable and act gracefully, and so it was with a flourish that he flipped them both over again, straightened the blanket above them and settled on Kíli’s hips. He picked up the flask of oil and seemed to hesitate again. He had never done this before, despite his age, and he was not certain how to proceed. But his Dwarfling looked so sweet and wriggled to desperately beneath him, he couldn't deny him longer.

He uncorked the bottle, releasing a sweet scent into the air around them, and put some on his hand, closing the flask again carefully and setting it on the ground. He spread the liquid over his fingers and covered Kíli’s manhood with it in long strokes, eliciting the sweetest music of _need_ from the Dwarfling’s lips. 

“Ph… Please,” the youngster panted. He looked entirely debauched like this, and Ihimbraskár loved every second spent with Kíli even more now. He tried to relax his body and breathe slowly through his nose, just like when he was learning to play the lyre. Keeping the Dwarf’s hard length in place with one hand, he grounded himself on Kíli’s chest with the other and sunk down onto him. Or he tried to, because the moment the head breached his entrance, an intense pain shot through his entire being, leaving him too breathless and teary-eyed to continue. He tried to anyway, but was stopped by his lover shortly.

The Dwarf prince could not bear seeing the pain and discomfort on his Elf’s face, it was almost enough to kill his mood entirely. 

“Wait, don’t…” His strong hands grabbed the lithe hips above him almost of their own accord. He pulled the Elf down and laid him next to himself. Kíli caressed his lover’s trembling body, but Ihimbraskár only turned his head away.

“Hey, now, don’t do that, darling. Please look at me?” the Dwarfling coaxed, peppering his jaw with soft kisses. The Elf complied, shame and tears in his eyes sending a rock down Kíli’s gut.

“I’m sorry I can’t,” the lovely creature whispered as one tear left a sad trail on his temple.

“It’s alright, we don’t have to… We don’t.” Ihimbraskár knew that his Dwarf meant those words. He would go a lifetime without making love if it meant he wouldn't hurt his lover. Yet there was nothing the Elf wanted more than to please this young man. Kíli kept soothing and kissing him, but that didn't alleviate the blow his pride had gotten. He had to go.


	4. Chapter 4

But when he made to get up, he was stopped. “What are you doing?” The Elf made no answer, just pulled his robe closer and put the sleeves over his arms slowly. He didn't look Kíli in the eye. How could he? He was unworthy of the love he would see there.

“I don’t understand. Why… What is wrong?” 

“I am wrong!” the Elf exploded at last. He saw the shock in Kíli’s eyes, but he couldn't bring himself to lower his voice, not even for fear of being discovered. He realized even then that he was being childish and insecure, but his pride was hurt and he hated himself. “If I can’t please you, then what’s the point of me? I’m only good for playing music and being decorative!” He hung his head, big drops of salty moisture falling down his nose. _How very attractive,_ he thought.

“Please don’t be cross with me.” It was but a whisper, but a mortified one. The Dwarfling looked small and vulnerable, pain and fear mingling on his face, uncertain what he had done wrong and so, _so_ desperate to make it right again. Ihimbraskár finally realized how his fit must seem to Kíli.

“I’m not… I could never be cross with you!” he retorted, voice softer and tone smoother than before. He swallowed the bile and put his hand to the Dwarfling’s cheek. “You've not done anything wrong.”

“Then why are you leaving?” Kíli asked stubbornly, pulling at the robe Ihimbraskár still hadn't put over his head. “Please stay,” the prince implored, when no answer came. “Please,” he whispered. He made no move, for fear of scaring his lover off entirely, but his whole being, body and soul, were begging for the Elf to stay. 

“Al… Alright,” he admitted, hesitation heavy in his voice.

“Thank you.” Kíli kissed him slowly, softly, as if he was cajoling a wild animal, making sure his lover had enough time and space to pull away if he wanted to. When the Elf finally responded in kind, throwing his still partially clothed arms around Kíli’s back, the Dwarfling pulled him closer, kissing his neck, his chest, finally throwing the robe away and laying Ihimbraskár down again. He was the one shivering now, but Kíli’s warm presence reassured him. 

The Dwarf prince was careful not to go too fast, or push too hard, but an idea had formed in his head. Now to convince Ihimbraskár to let him try it out…


	5. Chapter 5

Ihimbraskár was once again submerged in a pool of lust, giving Kíli’s mouth and hands ready access. The Dwarf prince was all too happy to oblige, but he had a different plan. He laid down next to his Elf again and looked him in the eye.

“I would like to try something. May I?” Ihimbraskár nodded, and Kíli had never seen so much trust in one person’s eyes. He started kissing the pallid skin again, raising goose-bumps. Then he reached over and grabbed the flask with oil in one hand, the other stroking the Elf’s shaft languidly. 

“Are you certain you want to… You want me to make love to you?”

“Yes,” came the quiet answer. Ihimbraskár was still ashamed, but his faith in his lover’s good intentions never faltered. _Good._

“Now, my love,” Kíli continued, trailing kisses up and down the Elf’s chest and wishing to gods that he could contain himself long enough. “If you want me to stop, you must say so immediately, and if there’s anything you would rather I didn't do, please tell me.” His only answer was a rather loud moan, so he stopped his ministrations and looked up. “Ihimbraskár?”

“Y… Yes. I will tell you. Please, don’t stop now…” The Dwarfling smirked despite himself, making the other blush and bite his lip adorably. When the scent of oil filled the air again, Ihimbraskár’s body stiffened, but he made no protest. Kíli spread some liquid on his fingers, just like his lover had done before, and whispered: “Calm yourself and relax, please. I do not wish to harm you.” The Elf complied, breathed through his nose and closed his eyes. 

Ever so slowly, the Dwarf started massaging the skin around his perineum, making smaller circles until his fingers were ghosting over his tight entrance. Watching for signs of discomfort, he gently pushed one finger between the tight muscles, thrusting further when he felt the hot, tense body relax around his digit. Soon, he had found a rhythm that pleased his companion – judging by the sounds. When the Dwarfling was certain Ihimbraskár was loose enough, he inserted a second finger, and the third soon followed. It did not take the Elf very long to start thrusting back, begging wordlessly (but quite vocally all the same) for more. 

The Elf had caught onto the meaning soon enough the Kíli had started his ministrations, and the Dwarfling’s gentleness endeared him even more to his lover. Right now, however, the time for gentleness was over, and Ihimbraskár needed more. More friction, more… _Everything._ He clawed at Kíli’s back, unable to produce intelligible language, trying to convey his wish (and as an Elf, he should really be ashamed to have fallen so low. Why, then, didn't he care one bit?). The answering smirk told him what he needed to know. He let go of the Dwarfling, clutching the blankets around them instead.

The oil on Kíli’s shaft had dried even during their argument, so he applied the little that was left in the flask, and _(Finally!_ Ihimbraskár thought) entered his partner’s tight heat, slowly. At this point, his worries had been unnecessary. The Elf’s body accepted him eagerly, the feeling sending a wave of excitation through the Dwarf’s entire body so great, he had to halt his movements least he would be spent that very moment. Containing himself was made even less easy when his companion was so willing to continue. Small, shallow thrusts turned into long, forceful ones. Kíli kissed every inch of exposed, lovely flushed flesh he could reach, Ihimbraskár’s hands roaming his back and bottom, never stopping, forever exploring.

Their bodies and souls seemed to have merged, heartbeats become as one, movements perfectly synchronised. Their breathing has sped up, as had the ebb and flow of their motions, until, finally, they reached completion, white-hot and so, _so_ sweet. 

They lay there panting and kissing lazily, sometimes dozing, sometimes talking, until the light of dawn coloured the highest leaves on the trees gold. Then they parted, each going their separate way, until they would meet again.


End file.
